---- From chapter 16 ----

J: It's a pretty clever plan, I hope it works out for them
D: Jay, your not supposed to root for the criminals
J: Always root for the home team

----

T: I'm going to commit a crime
B: Please do not
R: why are you guys texting during a mission
T: This isn't a mission it's cruel and unusual punishment and I want to die
C: Tim :(
T: *I want to commit a crime
C: :)
D: Tim are you doing ur job
T: My job is to stand behind a counter and hate my life

Konner glanced up from his phone to look towards the register where Tim was absentmindedly picking at the nail polish on his left hand between typing, peeling it off in flakes.

His posture was horrific, and Konner winced as he straightened up. He didn't feel "body pain" so much as a deep, torrential ache in his muscles that only came after one of those "save the world" missions, but he'd witnessed his friends suffer and knew that Tim's back had to be killing him.

If he pointed it out though, Tim would just give him the middle finger, across the store or in chat.

It wasn't a horrible mission- certainly not the worst Batman had ever given them, not when he still had nightmares about Gotham's sewers- but it was boring.

Kon hadn't absorbed all of the debriefings Batman gave them- how could he when M'gann was standing there, cropped red hair showing off the back of their neck, his eyes drifting back to them every few moments- but he'd gotten the gist. Enough to understand his own role in The Plan.

Which was to do nothing. For two weeks.

T: I've decided on my crime
T: I'm going to MURDER Bruce

The bright fluorescent lights pretty much completely fucked over his light perception, phosphenes permanently dancing across his vision as he squinted at the screen.

The store's bell rang throughout and Konner watched Tim's head turn to look at the door, watching as random customers, not their suspect, shuffled into the store, dragging in snow and wet sludge.

It was nearing nine, the last hour of their shift, and Kon could sense Tim's annoyance at the idea of customers from across the store, especially with the wave of goosebumps that rose on his bare arms at the opening of the door. The crowd of three teenagers, bleak evening breeze clinging to their clothes, loudly but efficiently, with an awareness of how overworked the employees were. It was going to rain over the weekend, probably.

Their voices, at least, drowned out the god-awful rattle of the ventilation system- the loose screw and its tiny clatter wearing down on the finely thread lines of Kon's sanity, a quiet form of inanimate laughter at their suffering- and the weed smell they brought with them covered up the bleach and cleaner Kon had finished dumping on the floors a few hours ago.

Kon waved slightly at the group, like it said to in his employee handbook, not straightening up to greet them properly. Shelving mugs would take all night if he let it. His gesture was returned tenfold by the teens, who quickly shuffled past him towards the snack and toy sections, out of sight.

Kon cringed at the sounds of chip bags rustling, consuming his superhearing for a few moments before they moved on, only for it to start again with candy bars.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket, knowing Tim wouldn't acknowledge him in person.

K: They're stealing candy bars, Tim
K: Tim
K: what do we do Tim
K: they're putting them down their pants :0
T: good
T: I hope this place goes under
J: It's a pretty clever plan, I hope it works out for them
D: Jay, your not supposed to root for the criminals
J: Always root for the home team
C: ethical consumption does not exist

Konner watched, put into bystander mode by his friends and a sense of justice and ethics, as the teens ransacked the store semi-subtly until they approached Tim at the register.

Outside, they left one of them behind, bundled up in a scarf under the no-smoking sign for the sake of irony, a lit cigarette in hand.

Tim stood up straight, finally, when they approached the counter, grabbing various energy drinks out of the fridges on the way.

He remained stoic when they dropped the basket on the counter, meeting their eyes dead-on, "Would you like a bag for all that swag?

The teens laughed, arms thrown over each other in a weird tangle of high giggles and limbs. Whichever one of them was the most coherent, presumably the soberest one, rushed the others through the process of helping Tim bag their things and paying, then ushered the others out, all of them giving thanks before disappearing into the night.

Kon sighed, getting ready to do another round around the store, sure he would be out of things to clean before their shift ended when the door opened again.

He was hyper-aware instantly that it wasn't high teens returning for a forgotten monster, but their suspect. Highly dangerous, highly unpredictable.

Carrying a bioweapon that could shut down the world for years, prepared to release it in the very isle Kon was standing.

Tim was already staring at him when Kon turned to look, then somehow seemed to disappear before Kon's eyes the way bats do, the shadows in the room somehow darker around Tim, making it easy for him to slip into the backroom for a quick change.

Konner hovered a few millimetres off the floor to avoid making any noise, listening to the man drag his feet, shuffling past each aisle, getting closer.

Kon inhaled, his body transitioning into fight mode, his breathing becoming compact, his muscles loose and optimized, ready for use.

When the man was just around the corner, Kon swung out, carefully restraining his strength, watching as the man crumbled to the floor, his knees immediately giving out as he lost consciousness with a cut-off groan.

Tim appeared around the corner next, his masked eyes blinking slowly.

"We better not have to finish this shift."